The Avatar and the Fire Lord
by Eternaltsundere
Summary: Aang, a young airbender and former student of Avatar Gyatso himself, has awoken from a hundred year slumber to a world ravaged by war. Though he is only a child, Aang's destiny is clear - as the last airbender, it is his destiny to teach the current Avatar, to help them realize their full power and allow them to end the war, once and for all. He just has to find them first.
1. A History Lesson

A woman holds her two children close upon that night, soft words spoken to them as the moon shines in through a crack in the ceiling. She speaks of tales grander than them, than their little village, of a world once full of life and of hope, when the balance of the nations was kept and all was at peace.

She tells them the story of the Avatar.

Long ago, it is said that the four bending nations lived together in peace and harmony, in a balance that was maintained only by the Avatar, the bearer of all four elements themselves. This Avatar was reborn, again and again, and as the cycle carried on, the Avatar was always there to keep the peace, and to ensure that the world did not fall out of balance.

The Avatar has not been heard from in a very, very long time. Indeed, even before then, the last few Avatars known to the world were said to have been cursed - always broken or killed far too early, never fully realizing their potential, for better or for worse. It was as if the world had decided it no longer needed an Avatar. At least, this is what the Fire Nation would have their citizens believe.

The last Fire Nation Avatar, Avatar Roku, was said to have been a bright and promising young girl, smart and strong-willed and empowered, it seemed, with the very warmth and strength of fire itself, even at such a young age - but she was also said to have been a surprisingly even-tempered and calm child, one who evened out the more brash young boy that was her best friend, Sozin. The boy, heir to the Fire Nation throne, was said to have been born on the very same day as Roku herself - and the two became fast friends throughout their childhoods, until one day when the two were 6 years old, the Royal Family made plans for a vacation in the colonies. It must have only seemed natural to have invited Roku, the Crown Prince's best friend - and though she was young, truly far too young to have been traveling so far without her family, who were they to deny such a request from the Royal Family itself?

Illness took her, in the end; Earth Kingdom illness, a fever unlike any that the Fire Nation royal healers had seen the likes of before which beset the child just days after she had returned from the trip. They say that in her final hours, her tiny body twice tried to fight off the fever with glowing eyes and swirling elements - the first, and last, signs that she was the nation's Avatar. And yet, in the end, she simply stopped fighting - as if she knew it was no use, that she was only prolonging her inevitable death. (Legend always said that an Avatar who died while at their most powerful would break the cycle - so perhaps it was for the best that young Roku did give in, in the end.)

The next Avatar was Gyatso, an airbender of great promise and wisdom. He spent much of his youth traveling the world alone, healing ills between people and solving as many of the world's problems as he could, fulfilling well his role of Avatar; however, in his later years, he retreated to rejoin his own people, as the world seemed at peace. Avatar Gyatso spent his days, then, helping to raise the next generation of airbenders for the world. Rumor was that he angered the sages in this way - that he took a particular shine to a young prodigy that he saw as a surrogate son, and was thusly ordered to return to his full-time Avatar duties and travel the world again, as he had done before. It was immediately after the Avatar left to carry out the sages' wishes that Fire Lord Sozin had attacked, utilizing the power of the hundred-year comet to wipe out the Air Nomads completely.

But not Gyatso. Though he was never confirmed to have been found anywhere, many claim that he traveled the world in secret after the genocide, never publicly appearing again as the Avatar but instead operating in some sort of secret society, always one step ahead of those who sought him out. No one knows exactly when or how he died - but it is likely that when he did, it was on his own terms, perhaps of old age, or of simple illness. His death, at least, could not be attributed to the Fire Nation at all, much to the Fire Lord's chagrin.

After Gyatso came Ila, of the Southern Water Tribe. She was reportedly a very clever and well-mannered girl, and she was confirmed - in secret - as the Avatar at just 15 years of age, having developed a talent for both water and earthbending. But before she could leave to fully realize her title as the Avatar, the Fire Nation began to attack her village, taking more and more waterbenders each time.

Ila might have managed to hide her status as the Avatar, true - but this was not enough. At the age of 17, she was taken, alongside the last other remaining waterbender in the tribe, and imprisoned. Avatar Ila eventually tried to break free from her imprisonment, and to free her fellow tribesmen as well, using both her water and earthbending - and thusly revealing herself as the Avatar - but she was overpowered by the Fire Nation soldiers who guarded the prisoners, and was killed.

The Avatar that came after her was perhaps the most elusive of any Avatar - never officially coming forward as the Avatar at all. However, legends do speak of a man who traveled the Earth Kingdom, doing what he could to help those he came across - but never using the elements to do so, and never once traveling beyond the Earth Kingdom's borders. As such, the man was renown as a kindred spirit - but it was not until much later, when his appearances had grown farther and farther between, that people began to whisper that perhaps he was the Avatar.

No one knows what became of him - or if he is still out there at all. The Avatar has not been heard from in years, in any case - whether as the Avatar, or simply as the traveling friend-to-the-Earth-Kingdom who many had revered. The Fire Nation, of course, has relished in this respite, branding the Avatar as a worthless coward and more or less making the word Avatar synonymous with a funny joke one might tell at the dinner table. The Avatar has not been feared for many seasons - the Avatar has not posed a threat to anyone for many seasons. The Fire Nation has spread itself over the globe, conquering all in its path, unchallenged.

The Fire Nation is at peace, and the world is at war.

The mother, clad in blue, falls silent as her story ends. She strokes her daughter's hair as she blinks sleepily up at her, eyes wide and full of an innocence that only a child could have in this time of war. Her brother sleeps already, his soft snoring proof enough of his slumber. Their mother stoops to give him a kiss to the forehead, even as her remaining child begins to drift off, and she stays there, sitting beside the two of them, and hums softly, a quiet lullaby for her two precious children.

She remains at their side for a long time, well after they are both deep in sleep. She does not want to leave them, even for the night. Fear grips her, that something horrible will happen if she leaves them alone here, even though the fear is silly. Still, the feeling remains - foreboding.

"Kya," comes the soft voice of her husband, as he comes into the room, gentle gaze resting on each of their children in turn. She smiles in spite of herself at the love she sees there, and at the depth of the love she sees when he turns his eyes on her.

"Kya," he repeats. "Come along to bed."

Reluctantly, she rises, careful not to disturb her son and daughter's dreams, and follows her husband into their room, the outer room of their house of ice. Their children will be safe. If anything is to happen, they will be the first to know. They will be safe.

Elsewhere, a mother clad in robes of red kisses her sleeping son on the cheek, not having to worry about his safety at all.

The next day, ash falls from the sky in the blue-clad mother's village.


	2. Prologue, Part One - Break

"Come now," the red-clad mother tells her children. "Hurry. The Fire Lord is waiting."

As she ushers the two of them to the throne room, where her husband has requested audience, she pauses a moment to take in their appearances... well. It's good enough, at least. They are wearing their best clothes, as she had requested of them; the servants had done well on presentation, at the very least. She is not, of course, one usually so taken with appearances - but this is the Fire Lord; if they are to offend him of all people...

She will not think of it, in any case. She leads her children into the room then, where flames lick around the raised throne of their ruler and her husband sits already, awaiting their arrival and staring up at the Fire Lord himself. Her children sit down on one side of their father, while she takes her place at his left.

The meeting is dull, at first. Her husband seems to want to flaunt their eldest's knowledge, and she performs well, reciting facts and history like it comes easily to her. It does, of course - all had always come easy for their daughter. She was a natural-born prodigy in many ways.

Then she is demonstrating her katas to the Fire Lord, and her mother tenses as she glances at her son.

He has always felt lesser, she knows. Born after, and always in the shadow of, a sister such as his. But even she knows that try as he might, her son is not ready for a demonstration like the one that has just taken place, even as her daughter bows and retakes her seat. But she knows her son - knows, even before he speaks, that he will want to try, too.

He always tries. He always tries so hard. She loves him so - but she fears this is not the time.

Still, it is done. He has spoken his intent to demonstrate his own learnings, and now he, too, is performing dances of flame for the Fire Lord, who stares down intently over interlinked hands. But even without being a bender of flame herself, she can see that his forms are slightly off; he is not naturally talented like her daughter, though she admires him so for trying anyway.

As she watches, one misplaced kick lands him unceremoniously on the ground; she rises then suddenly, without thinking, eyes wide and worry flaring up for her child. But before she can move to him, he has gotten to his feet again, to try once more-

Then her son has leapt, kicking out with one ungraceful motion and sending a weak flame into the air above him, and as he falls to the ground, a sudden gust of wind, almost unnoticeable, bursts out from where he lands, rustling the bottom of her robes even as she takes a few hasty steps towards him. She need not have worried at all, it seems - his fall had been cushioned.

But his spirits are still dampened; as she reaches him, one gentle hand on his shoulder and helping him up, her son mumbles, almost as if to himself - "I failed." Clearly he had not noticed the wind. His head is down, and though she cannot yet see his face, she can hear in his voice that he is close to tears.

"No," she breathes to him, soothing, as she turns her son to face her and places both hands upon his shoulders. "Be proud of who you are, my son. Someone who keeps fighting, even though it's hard," and yet still she keeps her voice soft, her words just murmurs, unwilling to truly disrupt the hush that has befallen the room, because she knows.

She knows what the gust of wind has meant, untrained and instinctive as it had been.

Air.

Her son had airbended.

And she was not the only one to have realized this. Nor is she the only one to have realized exactly what it meant.

"Go to your chambers at once," the Fire Lord orders, abruptly, breaking the silence, and without a word she rises and leads her children away, but notices as she goes that her husband does not leave. The Fire Lord had not been addressing him.

They intend to discuss this, she knows. She only hopes that their decision will be merciful.

After all, would it not do more good to raise the Avatar here, as one of their own?

She makes certain to keep her son close to her as she leads him to his chambers, never once letting her hand leave his shoulder.

It is later, after she has put both of her children to bed, that she begins to pack a bag. Her husband had not returned to their chambers - and she fears the worst. What if the Fire Lord had ordered - no. She mustn't think of that. She busies herself with the packing instead, not fully dedicating her time and mind to it but spending enough effort to keep herself sufficiently distracted. She is not certain why she packs. It is possible that all will be fine, and this will not even be necessary.

And yet.

Her son. The Avatar. What if they mean to hurt him - or worse? She will have to leave, and take him with her, if that is the case. She will not allow any harm to come to her son. Not while there is breath left in her body.

Sudden fear grips her then. What if he has already been hurt? All the while she has been busying herself in her own chamber - but she should have been watching over her children! What if...

She allows herself no more time to worry on it. Her children's rooms are next to each other, thankfully - and across from her own. She will not have far to go. As she rises, half-packed bag still sitting on her own bed, she makes her way to her son's room first, moving through the doorway and then freezing when she sees that is her daughter instead who stands there, playing idly with the dagger that she knows belongs to him.

She moves to her daughter, and without a word extends her hand, giving her a look even as she fights rising terror. Her daughter sets the knife in her hand, and she slips it into her robes.

"Where is your brother?" she asks her child, and though she tries to keep her tone gentle, kind, there is a sharpness to her words that surely makes itself very clear.

"Dad took him into the throne room," her daughter tells her innocently. "He said he and the Fire Lord had business with him." She smiles then, up at her mother, and though it's a blithe thing, not outwardly portraying any ill intentions, she shudders to realize that perhaps it means that her daughter is pleased. Does she know just what could be happening-?

No. There is no time to chide her, or to pause at all - without a word, the woman takes off running, frantic footfalls echoing throughout the halls of the palace as she hurries to find her son. The throne room. He is in the throne room. Surely she can't be too late already...

She bursts forth into the room, the edges of her robes likely billowing a bit behind her in some dramatic fashion, and her eyes widen as she takes in the scene before her.

The Fire Lord, on his throne - to be expected, that. And her husband, standing some ways in front of him, hatred clear in his features.

And her son - her son is kneeling before a father whose hand is already outstretched towards him in a stance that she knows means flame is forthcoming. Even from where she stands, she can see her son's shoulders shake with the tears she is sure he is spilling, and then her husband's raised hand moves, just slightly, and she does too.

"Stop!" she cries as she rushes forward, and in that same instant she sees him jerk, surprised - but the flame still bursts forth from his hand, still sears the flesh before it, and no, no, no, her son, her precious child -

She's at his side in an instant, where he's crumpled to the ground, and one side of his face is horrible. It's taken the full brunt of the blast, she can tell, though her husband's shock had been enough to keep the rest of him safe. Not that he will be safe for long - this is bad, so bad, and she cradles him to her and tries to whisper soothing words to him, even as he writhes in torment.

She hears him let out a whimper, agony clear in his voice, and then he falls silent, limp in her trembling arms. Unconscious, it seems, probably from the pain. She doesn't know if this is better or worse. All she does know is that her child, her baby - he's hurt, so so hurt and the monsters who did this to him are just staring, not even making a move to finish to job - as if waiting for her next move.

She whips her head up to glare at them, eyes likely wild with her rising panic.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks, desperation clawing forth in her tone even as she tries to keep herself calm, to reason with them. "He is on our side now! If you kill him, he'll only be born again - you will have to find him all over again!"

"Are you a fool?" her husband snaps at her, though his words are slow and condescending even in his anger, as if he is speaking to someone simpler than she. His mouth is twisted in what might be a grin or a grimace - she can't be sure. She looks away then, back to her son. "The next in the cycle is air, and the Air Nomads are dead. Finally the world will be free of this wretch once and for -"

"Hold your tongue, child," the Fire Lord interrupts him, and though he does not raise his voice, his tone is cold and commanding enough to silence the man. She still knows, though - knows what her husband had meant, realizes why they have decided that her child must die. Is it true? Could the cycle truly be broken? "This matters not. The decision does not concern you." The old man's latter words are spoken to her, she knows, even as his icy gaze rests upon her.

"He is my son," she replies, surprising herself in the strength of her voice as she lifts her head, tearing her own gaze away from her broken child to meet the Fire Lord's eyes without fear. "This concerns me."

"Very well," he says to her, and the contempt in his voice is clear. He is sneering at her, she thinks. "Take your precious son and go, if you wish. But you will not be welcome within our borders." He smiles then, a wicked, twisted thing. Because he knows, just as well as she does, what his words mean for her, for them both. Her child, hurting now as he is, needs a healer, and a good one, she is certain, or he will not survive for long - and the Fire Lord is counting on this. She knows he is.

"Do you mean to say that this is exile?" she manages, cradling the limp child she is holding closer to her chest, though attempting to keep her face impassive. She sees her husband's narrowed eyes focus on their son - no. Her son. The revulsion she sees in those hateful eyes is enough to tell her that he is no father to her child.

"Yes," the Fire Lord answers her, coldly. "If you or the boy is found in the Fire Nation ever again, my soldiers will not hesitate to kill you on the spot." He gives her another smile, as if he's being polite - "I wish both of you the best of health."

She seethes at his words, but wastes no time in protesting them. There are no more words for her to speak now. The Fire Lord need not be told that she understands just how cruel his 'kindness' truly is. But she will not let him win - him or her husband.

They think that her son has no chance of surviving. They think that she has no chance of saving him.

They underestimate, clearly, the depth of her love for Zuko.

Ursa gathers her son in her arms and runs.


	3. Prologue, Part Two - Heal

One week.

One week since Ursa had fled the palace, a burned and broken child in her arms; one week since Ozai had scarred his own son.

One week since she had realized that Zuko - her Zuko - was the Avatar.

He is only eight years old, and already he has been so horribly hurt by the world. Not just physically - as she would wager that his heart bore scars just as much as his face now did, though her son scarcely woke up now. Most of his time is consumed by fitful sleep, feverish, even as the infection in his wounded face rages on.

Ursa had done all that she could, gotten him to a healer as fast as she could have possibly managed. She had even stopped within the borders of the Fire Nation twice to have his wound treated; a great risk, she knew, but when the alternative was the certainty of his death, she would take what she could. But it had taken far too long to get him to a good Earth Kingdom healer, across the water as the nation was - she had only found one such healer three days ago, just ashore, who was thankfully willing to take her Fire Nation coins.

And yet her son still hardly wakes, now. Of course his wound had been infected - what more could she have hoped for, besides him living? Even that seemed uncertain - he is so weak, so broken, and the healers here do not speak of his health with hope. But Ursa will not give up her own hope in her child. He has always tried so hard - he is at heart a boy who would never stop fighting for something that he wanted or that he believed in, that much she knows. She will only have to hope now that he will fight for his own life.

Even as she thinks the words from where she sits at his bedside, she retrieves the dagger from inside her clothes; though they are simpler now, Earth Kingdom, she still keeps the knife that she had stashed in her robes prior, even though she had sold the clothes she had worn before. She'd had money with her, sure - but even that would run out soon, and her son needs everything she can give him, now.

She turns the dagger over in her hands, eyes flitting down to take in the inscription. Never give up without a fight. It is silly, she knows, the comfort it gives her, but it does - for reading it she can almost hear her son's voice again, as he had read it aloud upon receiving it, how he had smiled... The words were so him, and she has to trust that Zuko will not give up now, either. He is a strong, determined boy. Surely an infection cannot defeat him. He will pull through, she thinks. He has to.

And yet she remembers the rumors, even back in her own small village, of the Avatar's curse. Avatar Ila gone at just 17, Avatar Gyatso's own people marred by genocide... and had not Avatar Roku herself passed from illness at just 6 years old? But no... Zuko is different. He will have to be.

She reaches out a hand to stroke the uninjured side of her son's face, brushing hair from his good eye as if it mattered at all, as if he would awaken at any moment - and then she rises, letting out a steely breath.

She had come from a small village, sure - Hira'a, where the arrival of the Fire Lord himself, in order to demand that she marry his son, had come as a complete shock. (Fire Lord Azulon had claimed that her grandmother, Ta Min, had once been courted by the great Fire Lord Sozin, before she had denied him and fled, never to be found again. But her family had been found, eventually, and Ursa had been forced to carry out the deed that Ta Min could not, in marrying into the Royal Family.) And yet, small village or not, she had grown up knowing how to handle herself - of course she had had to, because though her mother was a renowned herbalist, she had split from her father when Ursa had been quite young. Money had to be made, and Ursa had always done what she could to help.

Now again she finds herself in that position. She has to do what she can to help. The meager supplies of money she had brought with her from the palace will be gone soon - not to mention that they will need Earth Kingdom money before long, if they intend to ever leave this place. Not every town will accept Fire Nation funds so readily.

Money has to be made - and as Ursa rises to her feet, moving to retrieve and don her darker cloak from where her things are piled, she pulls out the blue mask she had acquired prior, staring at it with a frown.

It had reminded her of her youth, of plays put on in her hometown, and of a man who she would never again see. He had trusted in her then. She had let him down.

She will not let Zuko down.

Yes, money has to be made. She puts on the mask and pulls her cloak tight around her, places the dagger more readily onto her hip, then flees out the window, relishing in the feeling of the night air.

* * *

One year since she and Zuko had left the Fire Nation to begin anew.

Her son is practicing with his dao blades not far from where Ursa sits, carefully opening a letter, the sight of which had filled her with a now-familiar combination of dread and hope.

She had purchased the blades for Zuko not long after they had moved into their own home, about eight months ago now. It is not much, their home - though Ursa offers her services as a herbalist in this town, and it makes her good enough money, they cannot afford to live frivolously. And they have to keep their heads down, either way - else someone recognize them, and news be sent back to the Fire Nation that the Avatar still lives.

He had lived, indeed, but he is certainly worse for wear. One side of his handsome face will always bear a scar now - she'd had to cut his hair short after the initial injury, as so much of it on that side had been singed and damaged. At least now his dark brown locks have grown back somewhat, short and fluffy now, though just long enough that they could offer Zuko a bit of comfort as far as his scar went. The boy would never say anything, of course - but Ursa suspects that he likes having his bangs so long, simply so that he can hide a little easier behind them. In any case, she hadn't cut his hair in a while, simply on account of this. Whether or not her suspicions are correct, Zuko never says anything about it, so she figures it does not matter all that much either way.

But his scar is not the only damage that has been done. He is blind in that eye now - and though he never outright tells her so, Ursa suspects that his vision has suffered in his good eye, too, as he moves with a lot more hesitance, and not just the kind that comes from being traumatized. Infection can do that to one's vision, she knows - so she had gotten him the dao blades, hoping that learning them might help restore some confidence in the boy. Agni knows that he cannot practice his firebending here - not that she thinks that he would. She has not seen him so much as conjure a single ember at all in the past year, and she has sat through enough panic attacks with him to know that even the sight of Fire Nation soldiers carrying the element can set him off. It had been a long while since the days of his panic attacks, at the very least - he is healing, ever so slowly - but she doubts he would so easily be able to firebend himself any time soon. Of course, as the Avatar, he will have to, one day - but she will not push him. Not now. He has enough to deal with as it is. Only nine years old, and already her son has been forced to grow up so fast. He does not play anymore, not even now that they'd moved to live on their own in this town and the other children sometimes come around to ask him. He hardly speaks much at all to anyone but her, though.

As Ursa lifts her gaze to watch him, she cannot help but smile slightly, hoping that he might see. She does all that she can to encourage him nowadays - and his skill with his dao blades is something to be proud of. He'd studied a bit with Master Piandao before they'd - before they'd had to leave, but his training had been cut short. She is glad that he is coming along so well, now, even without his master now to train him. She is confident that her son soon will be able to defend himself.

Zuko catches her gaze then, and she widens her smile at him, a gentle, reassuring thing, she hopes. He blinks for a moment, seemingly taken aback to find she had been watching - then, slowly, shyly, he returns her smile, giving her a little bow. Then it is back to practicing with him, the intent, almost angry expression melting back onto his face as he swings the dual swords with practiced grace.

That smile. At least she knows that her child is still in there, somewhere, though now so often he hides that part of himself behind steel and determination.

She returns her gaze back to the letter. It was addressed, at least on the outside, not to Ursa of the Fire Nation - but to Tae-Jin of the Earth Kingdom, her new name, the herbalist in this small village. She knows before she has even pulled the letter out, however, that inside will be a different story. And indeed it is. As she unfolds it, she takes in how it is addressed - Dear Ursa. Though the characters there are not the same ones she had used during her time in the capital. (At least he knows not to be that obvious.)

Iroh. They had been corresponding for a good six months now, ever since the first letter had shown up on her doorstep. She was surprised then that he had found her so quickly - and had almost fled the town with her son immediately, desperate to keep him safe.

But Iroh is not affliated with the crown anymore - this much she knows. He had never returned to the capital after the loss of Lu Ten just over a year ago; the rumor was that after the loss of his son, and upon hearing the news that his nephew, too, had perished due to sudden illness back in the capital (alongside his poor, poor mother), the General had gone mad, fleeing from his post and his responsibilities never to be heard from again. Eight months ago, after four months of silence from the crown prince, Ursa had heard, in whispers in the port, that Fire Lord Azulon had revoked Iroh's birthright.

Ozai is now in line to the throne, and Iroh has been presumed dead.

Ursa, of course, knows better. The letter that had arrived on her doorstep (courtesy of a particularly plump-looking hawk) had surprised her - but what was inside, at the very least, calmed her nerves somehow. She did not know the extent of the gesture - only that the Pai Sho tile meant something far more. She had only heard whispers, of a secret society - one dedicated to the support of the Avatar, and having something to do with Pai Sho. She supposes assuming that the White Lotus tile enclosed in the letter was related might have been a stretch, true - but she had nothing else to cling to, and she wants to trust Iroh. She has to. (She wears the White Lotus tile around her neck, now. Some part of her thinks it may come in handy, one day.)

When Iroh had contacted her, he had not known that Zuko was still alive. That, at least, was a relief. Even if she had somehow been obvious enough for the old general to have tracked her down - Zuko, at least, was safe. It was not until a few letters in that she had breached the subject, revealing to Iroh the truth - that Zuko had not died at all.

She had been subtle about it at first. Zuko and she had been exiled, for reasons she could not name. Only after she was certain Iroh would not turn her in did she reveal the truth to him - though of course, even then, it was written in a deep code, much like all of their letters were. (Letters can be intercepted, after all.) _Yes, Li is a very special boy. This is part of why we had to leave home so suddenly. I suspect he will grow into a man of many talents._

Iroh had agreed to come meet with her, though when was unclear. Zuko will need a firebending teacher, once he is a little older; the Avatar has a duty to the world, she knows, as much as she loves her son. He has to master the four elements - and then, perhaps, he will have to restore balance somehow, if he can.

All in due time. He is still young yet. Still far too young. She has not even touched on the topic of him being the Avatar yet - though she is certain that he must know, what with all that had happened. Still, they never discuss it; it is still so early...

But. Early or not, her son will need a firebending master at some point. If the legends are true, the elements will have to be learned in order - that means fire, air, water, then earth.

She tries not to think about what the second one entails. He has at least demonstrated the capacity for airbending, before, what with the incident a year ago - but with no more airbending masters, no airbenders at all, left in the world, it falls to Ursa to think of some other way for her son to learn. They have time, yes - but eventually, he will have to master airbending, and he will have to master it before he can tackle waterbending. Ursa supposes they would have to pay visits to the air temples themselves - for while the Air Nomads are no longer around, perhaps some of their teachings still are, somewhere. It is the best they can hope for, truly.

As far as a firebending teacher, however, there is none possible but Iroh, truly. Ursa and her son certainly cannot return to the Fire Nation. And though part of her fears a trap in his agreeing to meet with her, to train her child in due time, she knows it is foolish to have such fears. He has her address - he knows where she and Zuko were staying, has known for months now, and he has done nothing to cause them harm so far. She doubts that he will do so now.

Still, it does not hurt to be careful. She keeps her dagger (Zuko's dagger, she corrects herself mentally - though she has never, in truth, gotten around to giving it back to the boy) on her at all times now, just in case - though honestly, she holds no delusions that she would be able to take on the Dragon of the West with simply a dagger.

The vial of poison she keeps hidden on her person, though, with which she could coat the dagger ... it might make things an entirely different story. If she is to be lucky.

Either way - she will do what she can, as she always does. And if the time comes for her son to need defending, well - she will not hesitate to offer what she can. Perhaps she can, at the very least, allow him to escape.

Iroh's letter is vague, as always. But she suspects that he means to show up soon. _I hope that soon I may stop in for some tea, before this cold season ends. Hot tea is always best in the chilly weather, after all._ The last official day of winter is tomorrow. If Ursa is not wrong, she thinks that perhaps he means to turn up then. She is prepared, either way - she feels for her dagger, satisfied to find it where it always was at her hip. Not that she is expecting to have to use it. But it does not hurt to be careful.

A knock at the door startles her. She is surprised - she has only just read the words, and he is here already? After all, she doubts any customers would come this late at night - unless, perhaps, someone is in dire need of her services. Either way, she stands, signaling for Zuko to go to his room, and makes her way to the door.

It is not Iroh. Two men stand there, dressed in clothes that seem suspiciously too Earth Kingdom. (Perhaps that is a silly thought. Still, she cannot help but be paranoid.)

"Hello," the taller of the men greets her. "Are you Tae-Jin?"

"Yes," she answers them, attempting to keep her tone light, and flashing them a small, hopefully welcoming smile. She cannot afford to be curt or draw any suspicion, not if they have ill intent. "That's me. Did you need something, gentlemen?"

"We just had a few questions to ask of you," the shorter man tells her, and as she watches, she sees him glance inside behind her, as if looking for something - or someone. She does not look back, but she silently prays that Zuko has not decided today to be disobedient. He usually is not - so if she is lucky, he is back in his room by now already, as she has instructed him.

"Could we come inside?" the taller man asks, and though the words would normally have been friendly, she thinks, she can hear the threat looming in them.

"I'm sorry," Ursa tells them, with what she hopes is a sheepish looking grin. "But you see, my little Li has only just gotten to sleep. You know children. Do you think you could come back tomorrow?"

"So you don't live alone, then?" is all she's answered with, by the shorter man, who seems to be trying to move closer, as if to shoulder his way into the house. She will not let him, not if it kills her. That is for certain.

"Of course not," she laughs. "I'm not sure how I would possibly manage if so! No, my Li helps me out around the house. If you come by tomorrow, I can introduce you to him." She will be gone by tomorrow. They will not stay here.

"Oh, no, no," the taller man tells her, giving her his own obviously feigned smile. "We wouldn't want to impose, miss. We'll just be on our way. Ask our... survey questions of someone else, instead."

"Very well, then," she replies brightly. "Have a nice night, boys!" Then she moves as if to close to door in their faces, curtness coming forth even if she had not meant it to.

But she does not close the door completely - does not bring it to a full latch. She pauses, listening to the sounds of the men retreating a bit farther - then fully shuts the door and moves to the window, cracking it open.

She sees them, along with three other men, gathered not too far away. She cannot make out what they are saying, but they speak in hushed voices to one another, and she knows. These men mean trouble. Bounty hunters or Fire Nation soldiers, maybe - it matters not. They mean trouble, either way.

Have they found her, then? She closes the window, cursing her own vanity; if only she had cut her hair... if she had become less recognizable - but no. There is no time to dwell on it. They are here now, and they clearly are not leaving. She has no doubt that soon they will be upon her and her son, probably to take him back to the Fire Nation to be disposed of. Does Fire Lord Azulon finally intend to finish the job, then? Ha. She will not let him, not while she still breathes. She will not let him.

She could run. Take Zuko and flee, and probably get away before they could catch her.

And yet Iroh - Iroh intends to come here. Who knows if they will be able to get in contact again? Even now, she only has means of answering his letters by way of the plump hawk he always sends; it had left after the last letter, today, as if not expecting a reply from her at all. Probably because Iroh intended to meet them so soon.

Zuko needs a firebending teacher. Nevermind a mother - what kind of friend to the Avatar would she be, if she were to let this chance slip by? He needs this. She cannot take this from him.

Her mind is made up, and without another word she flips over the letter from Iroh on the desk, scrawling a hasty note of her own there. She moves, then, to her son's room, where she sees him already curled up in his bed. Has he gone to sleep already? He must have been tired-

"Zuko?" Ursa murmurs to him, as she reaches his side, softly shaking his shoulder. He turns his head up to blink at her, sleepily, though she knows not if she has roused him or if he had not yet drifted off.

"Zuko, my love," she breathes, stroking his hair, as he sits up slowly. "I have to leave now, for a while. Your uncle will be here tomorrow. Can you let him in, when he gets here?"

That seems to wake her son up, and he stares at her, confusion evident on his features. "Uncle...? What-"

She shakes her head, silencing him with one hand. "There is no time, darling. I'm sorry. Just... I promise, Zuko. Everything I've done, I've done to protect you."

As she stands from where she had stooped, she sees the alarm growing in his expression. "Mom?" he whispers, voice hoarse, as if he realizes this is a goodbye.

"I love you," she tells him, and she is surprised that there are no tears in her eyes, even now. "Never forget who you are."

And before he can protest, before he can say another word, she turns and exits his room, shuts the door behind her, and leaves out the back entrance.

She climbs atop the ostrich horse she uses for deliveries, using the bundle of empty sacks that had been lying there to cradle to her chest - all bundled together, she hopes they will look, in the darkness, like a child, held closely as she flees in the night. Then she takes one look back at her home, with her son inside - she must go, now. Any moment, he might try to follow her, and she cannot have that.

Ursa rides the ostrich horse into the night, dagger at her hip and poison in her belt, and careful to make sure that the men see her leave. They will follow, she knows.

And she will keep her son safe.


	4. Prologue, Part Three - Scar

It has been two weeks since Zuko and his uncle had fled the city, and two weeks, too, since Zuko had eaten a truly decent meal.

His stomach grumbles even as he sits, at the base of a large tree and shaded by its huge branches. It's a nice spot in the woods, actually - he isn't uncomfortable, really, or he hadn't been until his hunger had woken him that morning. He and Uncle had not eaten since the morning before; they could not really afford to eat a whole lot now anyway, considering they were sort of on the run.

Iroh has not fully explained (though Zuko has not exactly asked him), but the boy knows that there is reason to their haphazard routes, and to their complete lack of traveling through any cities so far. He knows enough to connect the dots - someone is after him, probably. The note had told him as much. It feels weird to think that it is likely Fire Nation, because _he _is Fire Nation - except he isn't, anymore. He is an enemy.

His stomach growls again and he sighs, shifting a little against the tree in an effort to somehow distract himself from the gnawing in his belly. His uncle is not here now (though Zuko knows that he never goes far - he worries too much for that, he thinks), so perhaps he is off finding them something. In the meantime, he will just have to wait. He misses his mother's cooking.

But then, he misses a lot of things about her.

Almost on instinct, his fingers move to his pocket, feeling for the paper that is folded there, has been folded there for two weeks now. The letter, where she had left her final note to Uncle Iroh.

Zuko removes the paper and unfolds it, staring. He cannot read the words themselves, not unless he wants to bring the page right up to his face (and even then, he is sure to have some trouble, as his remaining vision is quite poor) - but he had asked his uncle to read it to him, before, and he had never forgotten.

_I am doing what I can to draw them away. Take care of him._

"Why couldn't _you _take care of me?" he mumbles, to himself, a bitter-sounding tone to his words even as he scowls down at the letter. Her last, hastily scrawled words before she had vanished into the night. He will never forget them - part of him, perhaps, fears that when he does, it will mean that she is truly gone.

But as bitter as he seems, as _angry _as he feels, clutching the parchment tighter in shaking hands, threatening to ball up into fists (he would never, never - would not harm the only thing he had left of _her), _he thinks the emptiness he feels is, at heart, more overwhelming than the anger. Not quite numbness, not really - he'd thought of it as that, at first, but he had since come to realize that the word did not fit at all. He is not numb - he is grieving, certainly, but in a hollow, aching sort of way, he thinks. Like part of him has gone, with her.

Perhaps it is silly. Childish, even. He does not care. He is nine years old and if he wants to miss his mother he will do so. Better than missing his father.

(Who he does miss, sometimes, admittedly, even after all that has happened, even after what he had tried to do to him. He is not proud of missing him, but it is hard to forget, sometimes, how happy their family had been once, their visits to Ember Island, and the way his father had loved him then, held him then, when he had been young, when he hadn't been the Avatar-)

He exhales, shakily, closing his eyes out of habit even when it hardly makes any difference now.

"I did not know you were awake, nephew," a sudden voice startles him, and he blinks open his eyes to turn to its source - Iroh, of course.

"It's hard to stay asleep when my stomach's practically eating itself," Zuko tells his uncle, and though it's said like a complaint, Uncle still laughs anyway, smiles at him, and Zuko feels bad for sounding ungrateful.

"It's a good thing I found us something to eat, then," Iroh replies, and then he sits down in front of him, a considerable distance away, and Zuko thinks he is pulling something out of his bag. He can't tell what it is, but he doesn't have to wonder for long - "A nice, fat lizard carp," his uncle tells him as he seems to be striking up a fire. "Something like this will be nice for a change, won't it? Even I am growing a bit tired of nuts and berries - though I know they probably do me more good than a full belly does." A patting noise and motion around his midsection tells Zuko that his uncle is patting his own stomach at the words. (Silly, that - only a year ago, his uncle had been a war general. Zuko highly doubts he's let himself go that much in that time, despite what he might say. He certainly doesn't seem all that huge.)

He appreciates all that his uncle does for him, even if his uncle would probably deny that it was for him at all if confronted. Still - it isn't hard to see that he does a lot for Zuko, goes to every measure he can to make sure he is comfortable. He speaks aloud a lot of times when Zuko thinks he might normally not, as if narrating the nuances of details and things that Zuko's damaged vision cannot pick up - though he never goes to the extent of offering him help doing the simple things like walking or carrying his bag, like passerby had used to do occasionally in the old town, for the _poor, blind herbalist's son. _Zuko is glad of this, at least - he had always resented the help he was offered, because poor vision or not, he didn't want or need it - he could still see well enough to get himself around, and even if he couldn't, he is sure he would manage anyway on his own. He would find a way.

As Iroh cooks the fish over the fire he has started, Zuko notes yet another thing that makes him feel bad for acting ungrateful at times. His uncle is careful of Zuko's ... _aversion, _to fire - never confronting him about it or even mentioning it (yet - though Zuko knows, once his uncle starts to teach him firebending, which he knows he surely will, it will have to be brought up), and taking extra care that Zuko is not make uncomfortable. Even now, the fire he has made is a good five feet away from Zuko (so that was why he had sat so far away) - and he had started it without bending at all. The boy doesn't bother to tell him that it isn't the bending that bothers him about fire anymore, but the heat and the sound and the color (he still remembers hot hot bright loud flame at his face and then pain, more pain than he had ever felt) and settles for simply appreciating the gesture.

"Thank you, Uncle," he says aloud finally, quietly, looking down at the letter still in his hand. He doesn't mean just for the lizard carp, and he is sure Uncle knows this.

But he doesn't say anything about it. "Of course," Iroh replies. "I would not let a nephew of mine starve!" The words are light, humorous even, but Zuko knows they mean more than it sounds like. He is grateful for his uncle's presence, even if he wishes for his mother at times.

Zuko glances back at the letter. He studies it for what seems a long while, imagining how the characters look on the page despite the fact that what he sees are mere dark blurs.

Then Iroh is speaking again. "It looks like our meal is done. Once we have finished here, I think we should head into town."

Zuko looks up, surprised, but does not protest, only nodding his assent as he folds the letter back up again and moves to join his uncle for the meal. Iroh must have noticed his shock, though, because he is speaking again, softer now that Zuko is nearer.

"Don't worry. From what I have heard, this town has been untouched by the war so far. We will be safe there."

"I wasn't worried," he replies, words probably a tad too sharp, but he makes no attempt to say anything more. Iroh is too far for him to make out well, but he sees him nod and tilt his head a bit, and Zuko imagines he is smiling at him.

"Of course," Uncle says to him kindly. "Now, let's eat."

The town is calmer than Zuko had expected, less populated than the one he and his mother had lived in for so long. Earth Kingdom towns aren't so bad, really - though he admits he misses home. (No, he corrects himself, he misses the Fire Nation. It is not home, not anymore, cannot be home, not now that he is the Avatar.) As he and his uncle make their way into town, they pass a group of men using their earthbending to ... do something. He isn't sure entirely what - build some sort of structure or building, maybe? Whatever it is, they all seem to be working together, the movements he can catch synchronized completely. Zuko has never met any earthbenders before, not that he can remember - there had not been any in the previous town - and he lingers a bit as they pass them, feeling the vibrations as the earth is moved and frowning a bit in thought. He supposes that, technically, he is also an earthbender, though it is odd to think about.

Iroh seems to notice his pause, and then he, too, is turning to the earthbenders, approaching them and waving a greeting. Zuko follows with some trepidation, staying behind his uncle as was sort of his habit ever since ... well. Ever since a year or so ago. (Except before it had been his mother who he had a habit of tailing when he felt nervous, instead.)

"Good morning," Iroh says to the men, and a few respond to him in a manner that does not sound unfriendly. "Do you think perhaps one of you could point out the nearest inn for a couple of weary travelers?"

"Refugees?" one man, whose deep voice seems to be almost commanding in its confidence (some sort of authority?), asks, and though Zuko can't see where any of these men are looking _exactly_, he can still almost _feel _their eyes on his scarred face. He looks at Uncle, not wanting to look at the earthbenders any longer, and catches his head moving in a nod.

"We have come a long way," Uncle tells them. "And it would certainly be nice to sleep on a bed again."

"I'm sure it would be," the deep-voiced man agrees. "My name is Tyro. I'm the leader of this village. We don't have much in the way of inns here - we're a mining town - but my wife, Senge, runs the shop here, and there's a barn just out back. We would be more than willing to let you stay there for the night."

Zuko expects his uncle to decline - that _is_ what is polite, he thinks - but instead his Uncle gives a pleased sort of nod. "That would be very kind of you. I know that I will feel better once I know that my nephew has a roof over his head, even if only for the night."

"You and your nephew will be safe here," another man says, not Tyro this time. "The Fire Nation wouldn't dare attack our town."

"Good to hear," Zuko mumbles, as he hears that assurance for the second time (though not entirely the same as the first time he has heard them, in truth). He looks down at his feet, feeling wholly out of place all of a sudden. _They hate the Fire Nation, _he realizes. _Is it like this everywhere? _He'd heard whispers, in the other town - but never as blatant as this. Did they really believe that his nation would attack an innocent village?

... _Would_ his nation attack an innocent village?

"Ah, and where are my manners?" Iroh adds cheerfully as Tyro starts to move out of the group. Zuko looks up to see making some kind of gesture with his hands, probably for them to follow. They do. "Let me introduce myself - my name is Mushi, and this is Li. You said your wife's name was Senge?"

"Yes, it is," Tyro says, as he leads them through the town, presumably to his wife's shop. "And my son's name is Haru. He's about Li's age - maybe a little older."

"How wonderful," Uncle replies. "Perhaps Li will finally make a friend!" He laughs a little as he says it, and Zuko narrows his eyes. He tunes out the rest of their conversation then.

It does not take long to reach the shop anyway. Senge is a nice enough woman, older maybe (he can tell a little in the way she carries herself - plus, her hair seems to be a shade of gray, differing greatly from Tyro's own silver) and she does not hesitate to agree to her husband's earlier suggestion of them staying in their barn, though she does chide him a little (good-naturedly) on making those sorts of decisions without her input. Tyro laughs. It is somewhat odd for Zuko to be around a married couple such as this - they are such a stark contrast to his own parents, it is almost shocking.

When Iroh offers to brew a pot of tea, Senge not-too-subtly sends Zuko out back to meet with her son, hinting that she would like for the two to become friends. Zuko guesses he's glad that he won't have to sit around a stuffy shop making small talk - but he isn't sure that making small talk with some strange kid will be so much fun either.

It turns out that small talk isn't what's on the agenda first, however. When Zuko finds Haru, he isn't just playing - he's _practicing. _Earthbending. A number of rocks seem to litter the ground, and one by one, Haru lifts each, seemingly an exercise in control. Zuko stops and stares, watching, fascinated.

"Oh, hi," Haru says, as he turns to look at Zuko. "Who're you?"

"Li," he tells him. "My uncle and I are staying in your barn tonight." Zuko thinks Haru nods, then. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"My dad taught me," Haru tells him, and Zuko blinks at him for a moment, unsure what to say. Then he turns to stare at the rocks littering the ground, frowning in thought.

He concentrates for a long moment, brow furrowing, and _feels _for a small, particularly jagged-outlined form, then focuses hard on it, moving one hand up and forward almost instinctively. It takes a lot of effort, and it seems like forever passes - but then, suddenly, the rock is _moving, _up up up into the air.

"You're an earthbender, too!" Haru exclaims, sounding surprised, and Zuko is, too - he had almost forgotten about the other boy's presence entirely. The rock drops, making a hard _thump _when it hits the ground again, though in truth it hadn't had far to fall - he'd only managed to move it upwards about a foot off the ground. When he tries to move it again, he finds he can only give it a little nudge; has he exhausted his chi already? Or had that first move only been beginner's luck?

"I guess I am," Zuko says to Haru, quietly, looking back up at him. He thinks Haru must be smiling at him.

"That's great!" he tells him, sounding excited now. "I haven't met another earthbender my age before."

Zuko resists the urge to point out that they _aren't _ the same age, settling on a simple "Oh" instead. There is a long pause, and perhaps with someone else the silence would be awkward, but Haru seems to be concentrating again, and then two rocks move upwards at once, spiraling in the air.

"You said your dad teaches you?" Zuko says then, and he turns to offer the other boy a shy - and probably somewhat awkward-looking, but sue him - smile.

One night turns out to be one month, once Tyro gets a taste for Uncle Iroh's apparently-amazing tea brewing skills. He refers him to the town's resident tea shop (which Zuko finds just a _little _silly - that they have a tea shop, and not an inn, but that's the Earth Kingdom, he supposes) and before long, his uncle has a job, helping out the older man who runs the place. There isn't a vacant place for them to stay in town, though, not yet at least, so they end up just paying Haru's family rent to keep staying in the barn, for now. (Rent had not even been Tyro and Senge's idea - it was Iroh who insisted on paying it, in fact.)

Zuko doesn't know if his uncle means for this to be long-term. He guesses he wouldn't mind, really, if they lived here for a while. (Though he would hope they would get a real place - and not just keep staying in a smelly barn.) Haru is nice enough, and Zuko thinks they might even be friends. They spend a lot of their time together nowadays - Haru likes to practice his earthbending, and Zuko likes to watch; sometimes Haru even tries to give him lessons of his own, passed on from his father. Zuko tries to follow along as best he can, though it's difficult to try and copy the forms when he can't quite see them (and he doesn't really want to remind Haru that he can't see as well as he can, even if it means he might get better instruction. Haru is so far one of the only people who treats him like he isn't _useless, _and he would like to keep it that way.)

It feels wrong, almost, trying to bend the earth. Uncle tells him it is because it is out of order, because he is meant to master fire and air first, before he can truly master earthbending. Zuko isn't so sure about that - if that were true, why would he be able to bend earth yet at all? - but he _is _sure that it does not come easy for him. There is a block in his mind where earthbending should flow, it seems; perhaps he will simply never be any good. (But he is not, naturally, exceptionally good at anything, not even firebending, even when he had not struggled with his panic. Zuko often thinks that the world has messed something up, to have made an Avatar who _isn't _a natural prodigy. Would not his sister have been a better choice? She had always excelled where he did not, and his father had - well. Zuko was not born lucky as she was, that was the point.)

It is on one of these such days, when Haru and Zuko are out spending the day in the woods (though never too far from town), Haru practicing drawing rocks out of the soil below their feet, when Haru notices the letter Zuko is holding in his hands. He supposes _notices _would be the wrong word - while he isn't exactly _obvious _about it, he doesn't really make any huge attempts to hide the paper either, occasionally pulling it out to glance at it when he's feeling particularly far from home. He guesses it's only his luck that Haru would be the one to notice it was a habit and not just a coincidence, that it happened more than once.

"Hey, Li, what is that, anyway?" he asks Zuko, tone and voice casual, but his sudden ceasing of his earthbending giving away his curiosity. (Zuko knew Haru - if he _really _didn't care either way, he would have just kept on practicing while he asked.) "You're always looking at it."

Zuko pauses, considers lying to him, considers snapping to him or brushing him off - but does none of these things.

Instead, he tells him the truth.

"It's a letter," he replies, quietly. "My mom wrote something on it, just before she..." He trails off then, looking away, and hoping that the gesture will explain enough to Haru. When no more words are forthcoming after his abrupt silence, he shrugs noncommittally and makes as if to begin folding the letter back up.

"Can I see it?" Haru asks him mildly, and Zuko shakes his head sharply then, bites his lip, says nothing, but only returns it quickly to his pocket. He knows, even if he _did _want to show his friend the letter (and really, he does not) that he could not. He isn't sure what the letter itself says, but he figures there might be information there that Haru could not read - not to mention the note from his mother itself, which would definitely be a hard thing to explain.

Thankfully, Haru seems to understand. There's a pause, and while Zuko is looking away deliberately, he bets that he nods. "Okay," he agrees. "No problem." Then he is turning back to face forward again, almost as if nothing had happened.

"Want to try out this earthbending move my dad showed me?" he asks then, and Zuko tells him he does.

From then on, whenever Haru notices Zuko looking at the letter, he will pause in whatever he's doing. He doesn't always speak, when he does - sometime he will just fall silent, as if paying some sort of quiet respect, and allow Zuko a moment to look at it before they move on with whatever had been going on. Other times, though, he does speak - questions, always about Zuko's mother, but surprisingly not the type he had been expecting. 'How did you lose her' or 'how long ago', he might have assumed - but instead, Haru asked things about who she was, how she was - little things, and all things which, surprisingly, seemed to help Zuko with his numbness rather than hinder him. It was like, whenever he answered, a part of her was there again - like in remembering her, and sharing his memories with someone else, he could keep her alive.

"What color were her eyes?" Haru asks of him one such time, before adding, as if it wasn't clear enough already, "Your mother's, I mean."

Zuko looks up from the letter, folds it, and places it neatly back in his pocket. "The same color as mine, almost, except darker," he says. "I think someone once called them _ochre. _Whatever that means."

"That's cool," Haru tells him. "I've always thought you and your uncle's eyes were pretty unique. I guess she was his sister, huh?"

Zuko blinks; he guesses, living this far into the Earth Kingdom and in such a small village, that Haru has never known the connotations behind having warmer-toned eyes. They were commonly associated with the Fire Nation, he knew - he and his mother had faced at least some small amount of trepidation, before, in the last town, because of their eyes. It's odd, for him, to be here in a place so _far _from his old home, not just physically, but in this way as well. Haru has probably never even seen a Fire Nation citizen - well. Unless you were to count Zuko or his uncle.

Oh, right. Haru had ended that last part with a very audible question, and he hadn't said anything yet. "Something like that," Zuko replies, and then he focuses on the two rocks Haru had just been practicing with, lifting them somewhat ungracefully and then attempting to do as he had, swirling them around each other in the air. He manages it, surprisingly, but he can't hold it for long, and before more than a few heartbeats have passed, the rocks are crashing back to the ground, that feeling of wrongness settling in Zuko's chest again. He does not like the feeling of earthbending, even while he _does _like the feelings of triumph he feels when he manages to do it. But it just feels... wrong, and besides, he isn't very naturally talented. Maybe uncle was right about the order of things. Huh.

"Good job," Haru tells him. "You're a natural!"

Zuko rolls his eyes. _Sure I am. _He doesn't say the words aloud. He's working on that whole gratitude thing. After all, his friend is being quite patient with him. It's been five weeks since he and his uncle started staying here - surely Haru should be growing tired of Zuko's lack of any real talent as far as earthbending, but instead he simply remains encouraging.

A sudden noise, from the village nearby, catches him off guard. A blast of some sort - Haru hasn't noticed it, but even as Zuko whirls around to cast his senses towards the town, listening closely, he feels his stomach drop.

He can hear it, that familiar, familiar sound-

Fire.

The town is on fire.

"Li?" Haru says. "What's -"

Then he, too, freezes, looking off into the distance, and Zuko's eyes widen as he realizes the trails of darkness in the air are smoke.

"Oh, no," is all Haru gasps, and then he's running, towards the town. Zuko is right behind him, panting in an effort to keep up, because Haru is taller than him by a lot, and _they have to get home right now._

He doesn't know how long it takes to get back, because time doesn't seem to exist for him anymore. All he knows is that once they are there, he follows Haru closely to the center of town, despite all of his trepidation (he knows this is where the flames are coming from, knows he isn't _safe _here), and barely breathes once he realizes what is happening.

Fire Nation soldiers are here. That much, he guesses, should have been obvious.

But there are _so many._

They outnumber the earthbenders here ten to one, he can tell, even just through comparing the mass of red (and fire, so much fire) to the familiar browns and greens of the town's earthbenders. And yet still, they are fighting, and Zuko thinks he can hear Tyro's deep voice calling out, leading the resistance.

He manages to deal for a long time, frozen beside Haru, before he just can't anymore - the flames are too much, the heat and the ash and the smoke and the screaming. People are being hurt. Buildings are being set aflame.

He runs, ducks into the nearest building he can find that's _not _made up at least partly of wood, a small, earthbender-made shack that they'd made to store tools. He curls into a ball in the corner, focusing on his breathing the way his mother had instructed him, so long ago, and pictures her stroking his hair like she had then.

By the time he is calm, and by the time he is willing to come out of hiding, the fight is over.

And the earthbenders have lost.

So many have been injured. Zuko doesn't know what all happens, but somehow or other, the town's doctor gets those he can treated, and burials are arranged for those who have not made it, though they will not occur until tomorrow. The firebenders have gone. Haru, who catches Zuko as he wanders sort of aimlessly around as all the commotion dies down, tells him that they have said they will be back tomorrow, and that the town will have to submit then. He says that his father will never give up.

But later, back in the shop, while Haru and Zuko are sent out back while the adults 'discuss,' Zuko overhears Tyro saying that there will be no more deaths, not anymore. He intends to surrender.

Zuko doesn't say anything to Haru about it. There is nothing to say. Instead, he pulls out the folded paper from his pocket and stares.

The next morning brings more tragedy. Tyro does not get his chance to surrender. He had been taken in the night, along with all of the other earthbenders - simply gone, without a trace. As the fire nation soldiers gather the villagers after they march into town, they are told that they have taken them, to work in prison camps. _This is what happens when you try and fight back, _they say. _This is what happens when you mess with the Fire Nation._

Zuko shivers as he is led back to the barn by his uncle after the soldiers have dispersed. Is this the Nation he had grown up supporting? What kind of soldiers were they, to threaten and kidnap the people he'd always been told that they wanted to protect? The Earth Kingdom was a different nation, sure - but the motive behind the war had always been to spread Fire Nation prosperity and wellbeing across the world, hadn't it?

He isn't sure anymore.

"Zuko," his uncle says to him, voice soft. "Gather your things. We are leaving tonight."

"What?" he says, sharply, turning at last to fully look at him, snapping out of his panicked stupor completely for the first time that day. "But I thought..."

"I'm sorry," Iroh sighs. "I know that we have made friends here. But it is not safe, not anymore. And if they are to recognize you..."

Zuko grits his teeth. "It's not fair," he snaps. "What if I don't care about safety? Haru is my friend! His father - they took him! He..."

"_Zuko," _his uncle says, and Zuko is surprised by the sharpness of his own tone, though it is not unkind. "Listen to me. I know that you mean well. But the best way to help your friend is not to stay here. You know that."

Zuko falls silent then, clenching his hands into fists, and entirely unable to think up a snappy response. What can he even say, to that? He knows, deep down, that his uncle must be right.

He is the Avatar. Even if his uncle does not say the words, they hang in the air, looming over him, and he shrinks down a bit suddenly, no longer outwardly projecting any sort of frustration or anger. Instead, he withdraws in upon himself, raising his gaze a bit to try and meet Iroh's eyes.

"I understand," he says, hoarsely, and then he turns and slips into the little makeshift hay bed he has called his own for the past five weeks. It is not even evening, and yet he is so tired.

Iroh says nothing. Zuko sleeps.

When he awakens, it is late afternoon, he thinks - perhaps early evening. He moves quickly out of the barn, one thing at the forefront of his mind: Haru. He must talk to Haru.

He knows he doesn't have much time. He wishes he had not slept their last day together away, but then - he guesses Haru probably needed some time alone, anyway. His father...

Well. Zuko will not think on it. As it is, he has found Haru already - just on the edge of the woods, sitting upon the ground. He swirls two rocks out in front of him, but it seems somewhat idle, like his mind is somewhere else entirely.

"Haru," Zuko says, and his voice is raspy from disuse. His friend jumps a little, obviously not having noticed him - then he rises and turns to face him.

"Li? What is it? I... I don't know if we should earthbend today," come's Haru's voice, and though his tone is mild, Zuko hears the slight tremor there.

"Haru, my uncle and I are leaving," Zuko blurts out. "Tonight. We can't stay here anymore."

"No," Haru says, softly, but there is no force to it; instead there is a defeated, sad quality to his voice. "Li, you can't..."

"It isn't my choice," Zuko cuts him off, curtly, words only half-true. He stares at the ground, not willing to meet the other boy's eyes - though he knows he would not be able to see it anyway, he does not want to face the hurt that he knows will be there, in his gaze, like not looking could somehow make it not real.

"Li," Haru tries again, his tone sharper now. "We're the only ones left." His voice breaks, a little, like he might cry, but he doesn't - at least, Zuko is fairly certain he doesn't. He guesses Haru could be crying silently, but there is no telltale shake of his shoulders, no visible tremor in any part of him besides his voice.

Zuko doesn't know what to say, anymore. "I'm sorry," he settles on telling him. "About your dad." For a long moment, he stares at his feet; then he lifts his head at last, face and voice both steely. "I have to go. You'll move on. You're strong."

He thinks his words have been reassuring, maybe - so he is shocked when Haru is suddenly angry, taking an abrupt and jerky step forward and whole body language changing without so much as a warning. Zuko imagines his face drawn into a furious scowl. "You have no right to say something like that to me!" Haru is shouting at him, and Zuko flinches away, taking a step backwards without really meaning to, eyes widening in surprise. "Like I could just _move on _after losing my best friend - and after losing my _dad!" _

There is a pause, then, and all he hears are Haru's angry breaths, like he is struggling to keep himself from bending a rock into Zuko's head (no, he doubts that's actually the case, he is always so quick to assume others mean him harm but Haru would never hurt him) or like he expects Zuko to say something back. He must take too long, though, biting his lip and staring at the other boy instead of answering, because before he can actually reply, Haru speaks again.

"It's not so easy," Haru says. The rage and shouting is gone now, leaving behind only a coldness that nearly makes Zuko shiver. "You should know. Could you forget your mother?"

Zuko feels cold all over, and he thinks he stops breathing for a moment, staring. His fingers move of their own accord to feel for the letter still folded in his pocket. He rests them on it for a long moment, frozen where he stands and silence deafening around him as Haru simply stares at him.

And then, without saying another word, Zuko turns and runs.

When he comes back to town from his impromptu escapade in the woods, it is nearly nightfall. Haru is nowhere to be found on his way back - he is probably already asleep - and he finds his uncle in the barn, gathering up the last of their things. Zuko does not say goodbye. They leave.

They travel through the night. Zuko isn't tired - probably because he slept so much of the day, he thinks. Eventually, though, Iroh says that they must rest, and the two settle down for the night. But Zuko does not sleep. Not yet. Instead, he lays curled with one hand held out somewhat awkwardly in front of him, clutching the letter near his chest.

He is angry - so angry, and he does not even know who at. The soldiers? Haru? Himself? Maybe all three. Everything is unfair and he wants to scream and shout until his throat is raw. His chest hurts.

Mostly he is angry with Haru, and not even for a good reason, he knows. But he's so so upset and hurt, because why couldn't he just _understand? _Zuko had not wanted to leave him. He hadn't had a choice. Why couldn't he understand?

But a part of him, the more mature, too-old-too-fast part of him that seems to be growing every day, knows that Haru had been right. How can he justify telling others to move on, when he himself cannot seem to let go of the past?

If Zuko were stronger, he thinks he might clench and unclench the muscles of his hand, aim at the letter, and conjure up a flame.

But he is not strong, and when he does point a trembling hand at the page, he finds no flame will come. He does not know if it is out of fear of the fire itself, or simple inability to sever the last tie he has to _her. _When he realizes that he cannot act, that he is so undeniably _weak_, he shudders, freezing for one long moment as he stares blankly ahead of him at the parchment.

Then he rolls over onto his side and buries his face into his knees, letter still held tightly in his grasp. And if he is crying, warm tears spilling forth unbidden from useless eyes and body shaking with quiet sobs muffled by his uncle's snoring, it is not like there is anyone around to see him do so anyway.


	5. Prologue, Part Four - Cinders

The seasons come and go and Zuko hardly knows when they pass. When he had been younger - or at least, for about the year that he had started truly developing his firebending skill, before it had all gone wrong - he had, innately, seemed to _sense _when summer came, and winter as well, most likely because of the influence of the sun. He is so out of touch with his inner fire now, though, that it seems he can no longer even feel the sun's pull - not unless he really tries. Uncle assures him he can unlock it again, with time. Part of him does believe him, because it's _Uncle, _the only adult left in the world that he can trust - but another part still doubts, wondering if perhaps he has failed as Avatar already. Has he locked his firebending forever, and thus ruined any chances of ever truly learning the other elements? (Is that even possible? He wouldn't doubt it, not with how much the universe seems to _love _him - facetiousness entirely intended.)

Zuko and Iroh travel the Earth Kingdom for a long while, seemingly aimless - and eventually, Zuko's answer does come. Before that, though, there is a _lot _of traveling - and he is not even sure completely why, because when they _do _stop to rest anywhere, there does not seem to be anyone truly after them. He can't help but hope that maybe, just _maybe, _he has gotten lucky - maybe the Fire Nation (and how odd it is, still, to think that - the _Fire Nation _as the enemy) does not yet know that he still lives. Azula had always been the lucky one, of course, but he can't be blamed for hoping, can he?

Where they rest, there are often people to meet, and friends to make - or at least, this is what Uncle Iroh would say. Zuko is not so sure, but he makes a few nonetheless - but never like Haru. He will never meet anyone else like Haru again, he thinks, because now he _knows, _knows what the curse of being the Avatar means. He knows he cannot ever be so close, and he knows that to care about others means accepting that he will have to leave them. (Except Uncle. Still part of him fears even that may end up the case, one day. After all, nothing had stopped the world from snatching his mother from him, had it?)

But those who he _does _meet are not without their fascinations, nonetheless. There is Suresh, a very young son of a soldier killed in the war who begs and begs to hold Zuko's dao blades, though Zuko denies him at first - he seems _too _young, likely only 6 or 7. (Zuko had not touched the blades his mother had given him until at least six months after her - well. After. Now, he kept them at his back always, practicing with them often as he had done before.) Of course, he ends up giving in; Suresh's father had died for this war, and Zuko will be damned if he lets this boy follow in those footsteps. He needs to know to defend himself, and Zuko does not just go so far as to let him hold the blades - he teaches him a bit, what he can, before he and Uncle have to move on. (He doubts, at the time, that Suresh's mother would be very happy upon knowing, so he hides it - but just before they leave, she sees them, and she says nothing, instead simply giving Zuko a _nod, _as if in some show of wearied, begrudging approval. He doesn't know what to think.)

There is Udaya, a teenage girl much older than he whose entire _family _is nowhere to be seen - an orphan, and yet she owns the small house they stay in, in that town. Zuko wonders if she truly owns it, or if she is simply like them, staying at a temporary home. But what place _could _she call home now, with no family to share it with? (She seems implicitly to trust Zuko, at the very least, perhaps because he is so young, but she never stops flinching away from Uncle. He wonders just what all could have happened to her, to warrant this sort of reaction. He doesn't ask, and before he can think much more on it, they're moving on again, and he never knows.)

There are Bhanu and Etsu, two twin siblings about his age whose older sister is a nurse, offering them shelter in her home. Zuko is stunned at the playful optimism the two seem still capable of showing in this time of war, and even more so when he hears his uncle speaking with their older sister. Their mother, it turns out, has only recently been killed in a cruel display by the Fire Nation soldiers who had apparently come through their town. Zuko feels cold and guilty to hear it, even if he knows he had nothing to do with it, not really. He's almost happy, this time, when they leave. He doesn't think he can stand to see those smiling faces anymore, not knowing what he knows.

There are more, of course, more children and grown-ups alike that he meets alongside his Uncle, though hardly enough that he should have any sort of trouble remembering their names or their stories - just more than he would like to think of, now. The first ones are the ones to stick with him - Haru most of all - and after that, the others become less and less memorable, it seems, even though their stories hardly change. It is almost as if he grows _used _to it - and the thought of that, indeed, makes him feel cold and ill. All of the people he meets seem to have something in common, though - they have all, in some way, been hurt by the Fire Nation, even those who have not lost someone dear to them.

Zuko learns, over time, just what that means. He learns what his former nation is like, not through words, but through _seeing _it for himself - in the way that he hears Udaya crying during that night in her home, or in the way he sees Etsu tense when her older sister puts the fire on for a meal.

He feels colder than ever when he realizes just how cruel his own people are - and just how much the Earth Kingdom hates them.

He doesn't know when he has started to agree with them.

* * *

It is when Zuko is eleven years old, nearing twelve, that he and Iroh hear news from the mainland - and his uncle seems more than just displeased.

Fire Lord Azulon has died, and Fire Lord Ozai has taken his place upon the throne.

There is an urgency, then, that his uncle has not displayed before. He has been content to this point to let Zuko wait, work up the courage to firebend again on his own - but that ends now. Though Iroh is gentle about it, Zuko realizes that he is acting out of necessity - clearly he fears that his father will be a much crueler Fire Lord than his predecessor, and he fears that Zuko himself will have to be prepared.

(For what, he does not like to think about. Defending himself from assassination? Leading a war effort? _Killing _the Fire Lord himself - his own father? All seem unappealing to Zuko, but he knows better than to complain - much, at least. After all, it changes nothing.)

So he learns. Slowly, but he does - with Uncle teaching him, starting from the basics and working their way up, but with a decided earnestness in the lessons. He _must _master firebending, so that he can master the other elements. He does not have a choice. Not anymore. In truth, he doubts he ever did.

For some months, they do not go into any towns, instead choosing to remain in more remote locations, places where Zuko can practice his firebending without fear of discovery. It's slow going, the learning process. First he must work past his own block, his fear - and even once he has, he does not seem to catch on to things as easily as his sister had. Zuko often grows frustrated with his training, but his uncle is, for the most part, patient. (He doesn't know how he can be, not with such a useless student as himself. He hates it. He _needs _to be better, needs to.)

Eventually, though, they do enter a town at last, Iroh claiming that he wants to sleep on a real bed again, even if only for a short while. They do find a nice inn there, and they are set up with a room for a couple of nights. (They cannot afford any more. Begging and stealing can only get one so far.)

The man who runs the inn when they get there, Gopan, is notthe innkeeper, as it turns out - but her son instead, a man of surprising youth. He cannot be more than 20, even though he acts much older. But then, he would have to, what with the weight of the responsibilities on his shoulders. His mother has apparently been ill for some time - months, now, and with no sign yet of recovery. It is all that this man must be able to do, to keep her business afloat.

And to keep his younger sister, Kei, fed. Kei is older than Zuko, he can see even before he is told - as she towers over him, practically, at her fifteen years of age. He thinks maybe she might even be somewhat tall _for _her age - and waifish at that, thin and bony in form. Her slenderness is not the healthy kind, but instead the telltale sign of a life of undernourishment. Zuko has seen so many Earth Kingdom children now and so many of them are like her, thin and underfed. He cannot help but wonder if perhaps the Fire Nation is to blame, at least in _some _part, for this too. After all, he seems to find his birth nation responsible for a lot of terrible things, these days. What would be one more?

Kei, at least, seems to share his own trepidation for the Fire Nation - but not in the same way, not even in the usual Earth Kingdom way. No, Kei _despises _the Fire Nation, swears she hates them with every fiber of her being, even if she doesn't say this in as many words. She says it instead in many other ways, the way she squares her shoulders to stare (glare, more probably, he assumes) at a poster on the outside of the inn wall. The Fire Nation has been here already, of course - left posters like this, propaganda he bets by the colors even though he cannot read the words, because this town is under their occupation, even if not actively. She displays her hatred even more so in the way she treats him and Iroh - because while Zuko cannot see exactly where her gaze is directed, cannot pinpoint what part of him she stares at so intensely, he _knows _somehow that it must be his eyes, and Iroh's too.

Kei does not trust him or his uncle. Zuko doubts Gopan does either, but he is an adult - it's more expected of him not to trust strangers in general, really. But Kei... Kei distrusts Zuko from the start, and it's odd, because while he's met others in the past who he simply didn't get along with or didn't interact with (more often than not, really, because he's sort of antisocial, to be frank) this is _different. _Kei does not just mistrust him. Zuko gets the feeling that she might truly _hate _him.

He can't find it in himself to blame her, not entirely. She's deadset on becoming a soldier, like her older sister before her had been, though Zuko only learns this from Gopan and not Kei herself. And Zuko notices her practicing some sort of swordsmanship out behind the inn the morning after the first night they spend there, with dual blades slightly shorter than his own dao blades that he thinks might be called butterfly swords, if he remembers his teachings with Piandao - and if he's guessed correctly from what he can make out of their shape. Kei swings with force and courage, even if he doesn't note a whole lot of skill or grace behind her attacks, yet - but she's self taught, probably never once had a lesson at all.

When he quietly offers to practice with her, Kei balks. "Why would I want to practice with someone like _you?" _she sneers at him. "You can't even see two stones' throws in front of you. I overheard your uncle mentioning it to my brother." Zuko privately doubts his uncle had said anything in such cruel words - or hopes he hadn't, at least. Kei's voice has been harsh, tone leaving no room for arguing, and she turns back to her own practicing now, as if meaning to dismiss him.

Zuko does not allow himself to be dismissed. "Maybe because you _need _someone to practice with," he snaps. "Your forms are sloppy. Even someone _like me _can see that." He withdraws his own blades, falling into a familiar stance and shooting Kei an expression that he hopes isn't _quite _as furious as he feels - somewhat menacing, yes, but if she's already afraid of him for having Fire Nation eyes (and he knows, hostile as she might act, that her hostility is rooted in fear), he can't afford to look like he wants to outright attack her. (Even though he does - but only sparring, not _seriously.)_

Kei responds with her own fury, though - moving forward even as she barks out an angry reply. "What would _you _even know?" She's slashing out towards him, possibly in outright intent to harm him - though Zuko would much likelier bet that she simply isn't thinking, not that she really _consciously _wants to hurt him. (She does not strike him as the type to think much of anything through - they would have something in common, there, if what Uncle always says is true.) But Kei's slash utilizes both blades at once, forming what looks like an X shape through the air as she lashes out; Zuko dodges easily, his smaller size making him much quicker than her, and whirls to strike out himself, though using the hilt of one blade instead, hitting at her tangled arms with one quick jab and then easily unbalancing her with another. She falls to the ground, and Zuko looks down at her with what he hopes is an appropriately condescending sneer of his own.

"It's not a good idea to use both swords at once for the same thing," he says. "That's the cardinal rule of two-bladed combat - one hand to defend, and one to strike." In truth, he's simply parroting back words spoken to _him _by Piandao, so many years ago, though he had not gotten much further in his lessons - but it had been enough, and what he _had _learned had stayed with him.

"But both _looks _cooler," Kei grumbles from where she is on the ground, and then slowly picks herself back up. Zuko hopes what he hears is begrudging respect in her voice, though in truth it is probably more likely that he's simply coming off as a know-it-all and not any sort of impressive foe.

"But it's not _practical," _Zuko sighs, sheathing his blades again and crossing his arms in front of him. "It just makes you off balance, and your arms get all tangled like that. Even one strike to the right place can leave you wide open. You aren't considering _defense_."

"Fine," Kei says. "If you know so much, teach me, _Wise One." _Her words drip with cold, biting sarcasm, but as she does fall into what looks to be her favored fighting stance afterwards, Zuko takes it as a cue to do just that - try and teach her, though part of him suspects she means instead for them to spar. (What is he doing, this is a horrible idea. He is no teacher. Still-)

"You shouldn't put your dominant side so far forward," he tells her, quirking an eyebrow. (Actually - he hasn't seen himself truly clearly in any mirror since the _incident, _but he knows half of his face was burned fairly badly. Does he even _have _two eyebrows anymore? Oh, well.) "Your right hand is your dominant one, right? Mine's my left - but really both, I guess. So I can't speak from a lot of experience, since I don't usually have that problem..." He trails off for a moment, forgetting where he had been going with the words.

"Your _left _hand is your dominant," Kei deadpans when he doesn't immediately continue his thought. There's a silence, Zuko simply staring at her, unsure if she means for him to reply, and then she scoffs. "Of _course _it would be."

Is that a jab? Just because the characters for 'left' can also mean 'immoral' - "_Both _are dominant," Zuko corrects her, though it's more of a grumble, through gritted teeth.

She shrugs at him, a clear motion in the bobbing of the outline of her shoulders. "Whatever. Means the same, doesn't it?"

Kei does end up practicing with him, in the end, though at one point she makes sure to tell him that it does not make them friends. Zuko is a little baffled, but does not protest; he had not suggested that they would be friends at all.

* * *

It's the next morning, when Zuko wants to get out of the inn for a bit (his uncle's snoring can be a bit much sometimes), that he runs into her again, walking along the path outside. He follows her without really thinking about it, though she does grumble at him about it - but she doesn't tell him to leave, so he stays. He doesn't really have anything better to do, not until he and Uncle move on from this town to somewhere more isolated, and he can practice his firebending again.

He gets the feeling that not much has changed between him and Kei. The air is tense, even as they silently walk further into town - the practice yesterday has not done much to help her apparent hatred for him. It isn't as if being hated is a totally foreign idea to him, so he does his best to shrug it off.

When Kei is the one to suddenly break the silence, though, Zuko is at least slightly startled - but not by the words she ends up speaking. "I know you're Fire Nation, you know."

He glances at her, but does not react with any huge amount of emotion at her words; after all, he had already suspected she had distrusted him, on account of his eyes. Kei herself looks over at him as well, at the same moment that he looks her way - he imagines she must be meeting those Fire Nation eyes then.

"I'm not Fire Nation," he says, finally, mildly, and it's not a lie, not really. He _isn't _Fire Nation anymore - but he isn't really any nation, is he? "But even if I were, what would it matter?

Kei stops, spins to face him then, practically spitting in her obvious anger. "The Fire Nation ruined _everything! _They're the ones who made everything go wrong, and made my mother sick!"

He frowns, looking down at his feet, unable to meet her gaze now even if he knows he isn't able to fully see it anyway. "The Fire Nation brought disease to the town?"

"The Fire Nation _are _a disease," she spits. "They killed my sister, and if my mother dies they'll have killed her too."

Zuko thinks maybe she is giving the Fire Nation too much credit, implying that they would deliberately bring illness somewhere as if part of some grander scheme. He says nothing of it, nor of his suspicions that she simply wants someone to vilify. Instead he nods, as if in understanding. _Okay. The Fire Nation has done this. The Fire Nation is to blame._

That now-familiar feeling hits him yet again, as it has so many times in these past years, like he's cold right down to his stomach. The sun is blinding as it peeks over the horizon, past the rows of shops. Its warmth should touch him, but it feels as if it does not.

They don't talk then, not for a long while. He simply follows her on her stroll, as she seems to be appraising the various stands they pass, he imagines, what with the way she's turning towards so many of them. But no one else seems to be about yet - too early, Zuko guesses, though he has started to wonder if Kei has wandered out here for a reason. Perhaps Gopan has given her some money to spend. He doesn't ask.

It's a little later, when the sun is a little higher in the sky (though still fairly low - it isn't _too _far past dawn, still) when they do, at last, meet other people.

And Zuko immediately wishes they hadn't.

Five men seem to be following them, he realizes as he hears their footsteps and glances back. They're too far to make out, for him - but he can see from their shapes that they are _big. _Maybe it's a coincidence, so he waits - until a few moments later, when the footsteps are still _there. _He looks back - yes. Definitely following them.

"Kei," he hisses, and she turns them, obviously not having heard them before. (Zuko had never believed that drivel about impaired senses improving your other ones, but he _can _believe that maybe he just pays attention more on account of his vision. He has to now, at any rate.)

He can see her tense a little, looking stiffer than before, but she does not answer him audibly, instead veering to head off through what seems to be an alleyway. Startled, Zuko follows her best as he can, even as she takes them on a rather twisting and turning path, obviously now in an effort to lose whoever had been tailing them. She nearly loses Zuko - so when she does finally come to a stop, cursing quietly as they both look up at a dead end, he can almost believe that they will be safe anyway, that their pursuers might have been deterred.

He's wrong, of course. Barely a moment passes before loud footsteps make the two of them turn. Zuko stares at the five approaching shapes, clenching his hands into fists beside him.

"Well, well, well," says a loud voice, in a line Zuko thinks sounds very cliche and very stupid. It seems to come from the man in front, the tallest one, who he would bet is the leader. "What do we have here?" the man continues, and Zuko is sure if he could see his face more clearly the guy would be _leering. _He's practically swaggering up to them, like he's some sort of big shot - but Zuko thinks his word choice leaves a lot to be desired, frankly. Trite.

"Looks like a coupla kiddos," one of the other men answers, to what had obviously been a rhetorical question anyway. First guy plays along, though, answering back after a beat -

"Well, _kiddos, _we're going to have to _kindly _ask that you give us your funds. Just drop them on the ground in front of you, and no one will have to get hurt, alright?"

Zuko draws in a sharp intake of breath at the words, but he does not let his surprise show on his face - choosing instead to glare, tensing his whole body up even as he catches movement out of the corner of his eye from Kei. Is she feeling in her pockets-? Oh. Well, if she has been, she's clearly found nothing - though he thinks maybe she is trying to be discreet, anyway.

He certainly doesn't have any money. Perhaps if they just -

"We don't have anything," Kei growls, before he can finish his thought. "Leave us alone."

"Well, ain't that rude?" laughs one of the men, and Zuko has lost track at this point of which voice belongs to who. He hears no mirth in the laughter - only coldness. "_I _think you're lying. And _I _think we'll _get _that money out of you, no matter _what _we have to do to get it." The sound of a blade unsheathing, then several more. _Oh._

Zuko had almost not considered this a possibility. Maybe by now he would have expected it, from the Fire Nation - roughing up a couple of children. It would seem like nothing, practically, after all the horrors he had heard so far.

But these men are _Earth Kingdom. _He sees the browns and greens that adorn them, _knows _by their dialect that they are not from his homeland. They aren't soldiers - just _thugs, _and they're from the _Earth Kingdom. _He can hardly believe it.

He will have to, and quickly, however. Already the men have started their approach, and almost instinctively he falls into a fighting stance, drawing his blades. He will defend himself. He will not back down.

He feels Kei shift beside him, turns to see that she's holding her own blades out.

They're just kids, in the end. Two kids trying to fight against a group of adults far more skilled than they are. They do not come close to being an even match.

But Zuko fights as hard as he can, ducking and weaving and slicing with his blades. He supposes in a way his reluctance to kill hinders him now, as he aims for places meant to incapacitate, not to kill. Some of his blows do hit, and if they had been aimed at more fatal places, perhaps he might have stood a chance then.

At least one of the men isn't afraid to aim to kill, though, even against a couple of kids. He's the largest one, the one Zuko had presumed the leader, and his movements betray a deep rage that almost frightens Zuko, as he's suddenly face to face with the man. He matches his blows as best he can, thankful the man isn't a bender, but in the end he only barely manages to dodge the strike of a blade meant for his neck. It slices down into his shoulder instead, and the gash is deep and agonizing. Zuko cries out, stumbles - does not fall, but nearly, staggering lower to the ground than before, swaying just a little on his feet. Another of the men looms behind the first, and Zuko tenses his muscles, clutching his blades tighter, ready to lash out in defense if this man is to strike, too.

A noise from nearby makes him turn, slightly, even without thinking, even as he himself remains in so much danger. It's Kei - she's pinned, three of the men surrounding her now that Zuko isn't weaving between all of them. She struggles, angry, but it's clear that even she can't beat all three. He is already fearing his own odds against the two he faces.

They're going to die. These men are going to kill them, and Zuko's breath catches in his throat at the realization.

"Ready to give in, runt?" the man before him spits, but it's with some undertone of sick satisfaction, and Zuko thinks if he could see his face more clearly, the man would certainly be smiling. "We won't spare you, not now that you've been such trouble, but we can make sure to make it _quick."_

Zuko stares at the man. His blood runs cold, fearful, and then -

Angry.

"No," he says, and stands up tall, and then everything goes white.

* * *

In a room long-forgotten by nearly all except the dead, ungazed upon for many years by any human eyes, hundreds upon hundreds of statues' gazes suddenly begin to glow, though there is not a single soul to bear witness.

In a temple of green carved into a steep mountainside, where a woman sits alone, meditating, the eyes of five benders on the mural before her alight.

And past a long, weary and winding road in the Fire Nation, in a temple of more russet hue, more bright lights shine, this time concentrated at the temple's uppermost portion.

"Send word to Fire Lord Ozai at once," says one of the sages of the temple, gravely, to his appalled-looking confrere.

"What would you have me tell him?" the other sage asks him, looking like he already knows the answer, just not in so many words - as if he won't believe it until he hears it confirmed. The first sage's expression is grim.

"Tell him that his suspicions were correct," he replies. "The Avatar is alive."

* * *

When Zuko next awakens, the smell of cinders distinct in the air, he is surrounded by bodies.


	6. Providence

It's odd, but Aang has never really thought of Gyatso as the Avatar. It's not that he doesn't _know _that of course the old airbender _is - _just that he never _acts _like it, never acts like he's above anyone else or treats Aang like he is any _less. _Though he guesses that the Avatar is _supposed _to treat everyone fairly, maybe? At any rate, Gyatso is more like a father figure to the boy anyway; he'd singled him out at an early age because of his rising skill in bending, and much of Aang's young life had thusly been spent as protege to the Avatar himself.

He won't lie; though it's great to get to hang out with Gyatso, baking cakes and playing Pai Sho and practicing fun new airbending forms, there are some downsides to it. At the age of twelve, he's already got his tattoos - a clear mark of just how much help Gyatso has been to him as a mentor - and this means that, when it comes to the other kids his age, Aang can be a little shunned. It's not that his peers _intentionally _treat him badly - but instead that they're so obsessed with the concept of _fairness, _even in games Aang's devised himself, that they're never too keen on the idea of letting the Avatar's apprentice join in on their fun. After all, that wouldn't be _fair, _would it?

And the treatment from his yearmates is not the only negativity Aang faces. He's seen the way the elders look at him - they seem to perhaps _resent _him, though in part this might just be because they are, as Gyatso says, 'stuffy old men who can't see past their noses half the time.' Or something like that. Maybe it's the _world _they're annoyed at instead of Aang? They are old and grumpy, after all. (Not that he'd ever say that to their faces! Probably. The monks are to be respected, after all, grumpy or not!) Aang suspects, though, that at least partway it _is _him that they are angry at. He's heard on more than one occasion a remark directed at Gyatso that seems to imply that he is wasting his time in taking on an apprentice of sorts at all, that it's unheard of for an Avatar. Aang tries to not worry about it. After all, all in all his life isn't that bad, and he's having fun. Gyatso has lots to teach him, and Aang's happy to learn.

Until the day when he isn't.

It isn't like he _means _to snoop. Gyatso sometimes encourages Aang to try following his mentor from time to time without being caught, a test of the nimbleness and lightness of foot that an airbender was supposed to be able to show. Aang has clearly passed this time - Gyatso hasn't noticed him at all, for the first time in the history of _ever - _but he is starting to think this is for different reasons. After all, the older man is clearly troubled by something as he makes his way up to the room where the elders' council often meets - not exactly in the state of mind to notice his student tailing him. Aang watches his teacher enter the room from where he looks on, hidden around a corner. He supposes that the other monks are already present.

He briefly considers leaving, but Gyatso seems so _worried _and he can't help being curious, and it isn't like he's hurting anything, not really, by creeping up onto the ceiling above them and peering in through a gap in the vines. He sees that the whole council isn't there - it's just Gyatso, Tashi, and the High Monk, Pasang. Well - he'll leave if they talk about something _too _personal, he tells himself. Except as soon as he manages to strain his ears enough to catch their conversation, what he hears _is _personal - but not in the way he expects.

"Aang is a very special young boy. He's far surpassed any other bender among his peers. He needs a mentor most suited to his skill level," Gyatso is saying. A far off feeling of rising dread begins to settle in Aang's chest. Why are they talking about _him?_

"You cannot continue to hide from your own destiny," Tashi replies then, with clear malice in his voice. Aang can see the way he holds himself that he's practically bristling - and he probably would have gone on, too, were it not for Pasang speaking then.

"Gyatso," the senior monk says, and though his tone is firm, it's in that same, soft, kind sort of voice that the elder is prone to using (Aang has to strain to hear from his place up among the vines.) "I know you mean well, but you are letting your affection for the boy cloud your judgment. Surely he could make do with another teacher in your stead. You _know _this."

"All I want is what is best for him," Gyatso says resolutely.

"But what we _need _is what's best for the world, not one boy," Pasang tells him, and his voice is louder now, sharper. "You are the Avatar. You cannot let your fondness for this child keep you from maintaining the balance of the world. You have seen as well as we have that storm clouds are gathering. War may soon be upon us, and you must be ready."

"If that is what it comes to, then I will be," Gyatso responds. Pasang is not tempered by the words.

"_No," _the High Monk says. "We need you, Gyatso. You and Aang _must _be separated. You must leave, and return to your duties as the Avatar. It is your responsibility to keep the balance in the world."

Whatever Gyatso has to say then, Aang doesn't hear it. He's off - and he doesn't know where he's going, not at first, he just needs to get _away, _away from the revelation he's been witness to. They're going to take Gyatso away - send him away because of _him._

His feet or his bending or both (he doesn't quite know) eventually carry him to his bedroom, one way or another. Once he's there, he slams the door behind him, taking a moment to lean against it. He's surprised to find that he's practically _seething._

_How can they _do _this? They're going to take away the one person who really cares about me! _Instinctively, he brings his arms up to curl a bit around himself, even as he works to calm his temper. He can't get mad. The monks are only doing what's best...

What's best for the world.

What _is _best for the world?

Gyatso is the Avatar. And if what Pasang had said is true, then war might be coming. Aang knows his mentor - and he knows that no matter what, Gyatso will continue to fight to stay at Aang's side, even if it means the _both _of them go off traveling instead. He can't say that it wouldn't be nice - an adventure like that. But what if the monks are _right? _What if he's only a distraction to the Avatar?

He'd been stupid. It isn't the monks he should be mad at - not really. As his anger finally leaves him completely, he lifts one hand to his forehead, fear and confusion gripping him. _What am I supposed to do?_

He moves then, to sit upon his bed, lay back and stare up at his ceiling as he mulls it all over. But no matter how long he lays there and thinks about it, he comes back, again and again, to the same answer - _he _is the problem. If he were only to leave... by the time he arrives at the Eastern Air Temple, perhaps Gyatso will have moved on, decided not to fight in the absence of his protege. Maybe the world can still be safe.

He doesn't know how much time passes, but eventually, Aang comes to a decision.

* * *

For the first time in what feels like a very long time, Gyatso is well and truly angry. So the monks think that affection for others is a _weakness! _Had not so many Avatars before him shared his care for those around them? What fault could they possibly find in his caring for Aang? The boy is his student - and perhaps, in truth, Gyatso sees in him also a surrogate son. At any rate, he will not be satisfied with the monks' decision; though Pasang is the High Monk and to be respected, he will not simply discard his own feelings entirely. So they want him to travel the world again - fine. But he will not do so without his apprentice in tow - or, at least, without offering the option to him. (If Aang _wants _to stay, well, that is another story. But assuming he does _not...)_

He reaches Aang's room, and with just one steady rap of his fist, the door swings open. "Aang," Gyatso calls out softly, into the darkness. "I know you've heard what the monks have been saying lately. But I'm not going to let them take you away from me -"

He pauses. The room is dark, but with each flash of lightning it becomes more and more clear that it is at least apparently _empty. _Where...?

"Aang?" he tries, glancing around as his eyes adjust to the dimness. Something catches his eye upon the bed - a scroll, which he wastes no time in moving to and unrolling.

His eyes widen.

It seems no time at all passes before Gyatso is on his way out into the storm, clinging as tightly as he can to Nima's back. He has to find Aang - can't let the boy die out here, not in a storm like this. Appa is a fine young bison, but he is just that - _young, _only 6 years old_ \- _and this storm is bad enough to be causing even _Nima _trouble. Gyatso only hopes they will not be too late.

Buffeted by the wind and rain, he peers forward as his bison continues to soar through the storm, carrying them onwards in spite of the harshness of the weather. He hopes that she will be able to track them down - sky bison always did seem to have a sense for one another, and he knows she is his only chance now at finding Aang. So he lets her lead on, in the direction of the Eastern Air Temple, though he notes she is already a little off course. Is this her following where Appa himself had gone, or is the storm simply affecting her direction? He hopes it is not the latter. He does not have much time - any moment now, he knows Aang could be gone, lost at the bottom of the sea forever.

How can he have let this happen?

He doesn't know for how long they search - but eventually, their efforts prove fruitful. In the distance, Gyatso sees the shape of a sky bison - Appa, his rider clinging desperately to him. They seem to be struggling to even stay in the air, the storm tossing them every which way. Gyatso barks a hurried command to Nima to _go faster, please, don't let them die _and she's roaring her own concern even as she soars towards Aang and his bison. _Please, let us reach them, _Gyatso thinks, tightening his grip on Nima's fur.

His prayers go unanswered. A sudden strike of lightning sends Aang toppling off of his partner, and Appa himself is sent downwards too in the chaos, the both of them tumbling towards the ocean with no sign of stopping. Gyatso knows then that he will not reach them. His apprentice will die, and there is nothing he can do.

But he _has _to do something. He has to.

And just like that, everything goes white.

* * *

When Gyatso comes to, he doesn't understand. It's been years since he's not been in control of the Avatar State - he'd mastered it long ago, and had never had a problem since. And yet here he is, waking up clearly from the state itself and with no recollection of what has happened.

It takes a moment for him to adjust. He is back on Nima, though he is lying down now. The storm still rages on around them, and a sudden jolt upon her back causes him to nearly fall, grabbing suddenly for her fur and only barely hanging on. It's then that he finally looks around him - the rain still falling around him, though oddly some of it interspersed with _sleet _(the first signs of a coming blizzard, instead of the rainstorm?) - and then it slowly sinks in that _Aang is not here._

Neither Appa nor Aang is visible anywhere. He searches the water below them with a frantic gaze, but there is only miles and miles of open ocean, chunks of ice beginning to form in it from the onset cold. There is no sign of his apprentice or his bison. They are simply gone - and their absence is a stab of horror in Gyatso's chest. In a storm like this, even if he were to dive down and search... there would be no hope in finding them, not even in recovering their bodies. They are gone.

He has failed.

Burying his face into Nima's fur, he takes a moment to collect himself, and then tells the bison to take them home.

Meanwhile, the boy in the iceberg begins his 100 year slumber.


End file.
